He had watched her.
A shattered mirror, fractured pieces reflecting an image to her current companion. Chameleonlike she hid within and used those fractured reflections to create the person they wanted or needed to see.
With Harper she was part mother, part sister, a safe place for him but a companion in wild adventures. A strange mix of protector and protected with her lucky charm,Trance. For Rev, an accepting friend, one of a few, a strong person but still in need of his guidance. She became a little Nietzchean when dealing with Tyr, her strength and her survival instincts showing clearly. A much sexier Beka was on display when she came back with Leydon. Rafe's visit transformed her into the adoring, yet cheeky little sister, having fun running cons with her big brother.
The metamorphosis from loyal friend to cheeky con artist to lover to thief to self interested survivor depended on circumstance and company.
He reran her interactions with him through this new filter and realised that for him she became his right hand, the XO he could rely on even though her methods would never be High Guard.
Behind all these faces was a person who hadn't been allowed to see the light of day, who was convinced that she had to hide, that no-one would accept her if they truly knew her.
Thinking back on the little things she had let slip of her early life, and the fragments he had been able to learn from others, he realised just how deep the scars of her childhood with an addict ran. She had learned too early that to be loved, to survive even, she had to become whatever was necessary to keep the peace. A child who had had to gauge the mood of those surrounding her before showing any emotion herself. If they were happy, she could be happy, if they were angry she had to be invisible.
She had obviously had to play many roles for her father, the loving daughter, the protector, the mother, the nurse, and if she had chosen the wrong one on any day, the consequences could be disastrous. Watching her now, he knew she didn't even realise what she was doing, to her this was just who she was. What looked like manipulation, was in fact a survival instinct so deeply entrenched it was no longer conscious.
Intrigued, he started to piece together the fractured fragments of the real Beka that came through, wanting to get to know her, maybe even help her to know herself. The real person would be someone well worth the time and effort to get to know.